Page 74 of A Perfect Gentleman

chapter 24

“Abby!” Graeme stopped abruptly just inside the door. His face was flushed, his hair disheveled. “I—I looked for you all over. I couldn’t find you. I didn’t realize you’d come home.”

“I did.” Abby was proud her voice came out calmly. She wondered why he found it necessary to explain why it had taken him this long to come after her.

He started forward, and Molly stepped between them, arms still full of the bundle of clothes. Graeme halted, startled, then looked at Abby, raising his brows.

“Molly. Please get that hot chocolate for me,” Abby told her maid.

Molly swiveled toward Abby. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’m fine.”

Giving Graeme a long, dark look, Molly walked around him and out the door. He watched her go and swung back around to face his wife. “Abby . . .” He paused.

“Did you have a pleasant chat with Miss Hinsdale?” Abby had not meant to bring up the subject, had, indeed, been determined to avoid it, but somehow it slipped out anyway. She feared some of her bitterness had oozed out, as well.

“No, of course not. I didn’t stay to chat; I went looking for you. You might at least have stayed and given me a chance to explain.”

“There’s no need to explain.”

“No? Then why did you take to your heels?” He stopped, visibly reining in his temper, and went on in a quieter voice. “Abby, I’m sorry. I had no idea Laura would be there. She doesn’t live in London; I never dreamed she would be at any party we attended.”

“I know. Miss Hinsdale told me she was only visiting—her cousin, I believe.” There, that sounded much more in control. Not sad, not tearful, not hurt, just matter-of-fact. But then, like a tongue seeking out a sore tooth, she could not keep from touching on the pain. “She is the one, isn’t she? The woman you love.”

“Abby . . .” Graeme’s face was a study in frustration. He crossed his arms. He glanced down. “Yes; she was the woman I—the one I told you about.” He looked back up at her, saying earnestly, “I would not have put you in such an awkward situation. If I had had any idea Laura would be there, I wouldn’t have taken you there.”

“No, I’m sure not.”

“Abby, I don’t know what to say. It upset you to see her; I understand. I would change it if I could.”

“Of course. There’s no need for you to be concerned.” Abby paused. “She is not very like me, is she?” Why did she keep poking at this bruise on her heart?

“Laura?” He smiled a little to himself. “No. You’re not alike.” Graeme started toward her. Abby took a hasty step back, and he stopped.

“I quite liked her.” For all her effort, Abby’s voice was brittle. “I can see why you love her.”

His eyes widened. “Abby! I’m not having an affair with her. Is that what you think? I swear to you, I have not even seen her in years. I’m not. I won’t. Ever.”

“I know. It would damage Miss Hinsdale’s reputation, and you would never do that. You told me so. I believe you.”

“Well, of course, but—”

Abby rushed on. “I am just sorry, so sorry, that you had to give up the woman you love.” Her throat closed, and she felt traitorous tears welling in her eyes.

“No, don’t cry.” Graeme’s voice was alarmed, and he reached out, wrapping his hand around her arm. “It wasn’t your fault. None of this was your fault. I don’t want you to be unhappy or to think that I regret it.”

“You don’t regret it?” She jerked her arm out of his grasp and turned away. “Really, Graeme, there’s no need to lie. We both know you didn’t want to marry me. You hated the idea. You were in love with Laura, and it’s easy to see why. She is perfect for you. She would have made you a wonderful wife. If it were not for my father, you would have married her.”

“I couldn’t have married her. The estate was desperate for money and she was penniless. I should never have said what I did to you that night. I was just so furious at your father’s threat that I—” He stopped abruptly.

“Threat!” Abby stared at him, shaken out of her misery for the moment. “What do you mean? My father threatened you?”

“Well, with, uh . . . bankruptcy. Losing everything. The estate and . . . everything.”

“You’re lying to me.” Her eyes narrowed. “Why? What did he do?”

“Bloody hell,” he muttered, raking a hand back through his hair.